


King of Aces

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Airhorns, Asexuality Saves the Day!, Dubious Consent (?????), Glowing Green Marks, McCall Pack, Multi, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Parrish Is The Only Sane Person Left, Sort of? - Freeform, established relationship(s) - Freeform, sex spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So here’s what’s up.” Parrish announces to the room as a whole. “We’ve got an issue. Everyone here has a green glowing mark thingy on the inside of their left arm. It’s making you all sex-crazed idiots. I seem to be the only person unaffected by this, which somehow makes it my responsibility to fix it. The thing is: I don’t know what the fuck to do. Suggestions?”</p><p>Everyone blinks at him. </p><p>This is not how he wanted to spend his day off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King of Aces

**Author's Note:**

> For Bryn, the Ace of my heart.
> 
> Also, I was high on emergency pain medication when this was written sooo.... brace yourself?

Jordan Parrish considers himself to be a regularly average single guy. A regularly average single guy who may possibly be supernaturally inclined, sure, but still. So when he wakes up to a breath of hot, strawberry-flavored air on his face, he shrugged it off as a regularly average nice dream and not Lydia Martin. It was, of course, actually Lydia Martin. Wearing lingerie, high heels, and copious amounts of strawberry lip gloss. He startled and fell off of his couch. Which he had fallen asleep on. Still in his uniform. Again. Dammit.

Lydia smirks at him. “Morning.”

"Lydia! What... um, what are you doing here? In my home? Dressed um, like.... yeah, like a, a Victoria's Secret model? I-I don't..."

She put a finger to his lips. "Shhhh..."  
Her finger trailed down. Jordan jumped up.

"Ha, ha... uh, Lydia. I don't, um."

He, very very carefully, grabbed her shoulders and moved her to the couch.

"You, um. You're a very, Uh. You're a very beautiful young woman. And, no I'm not done talking yet can please stop touching my thigh..."

He takes her hand and puts in in her lap and tries to point a stern finger at her, channeling his mother.

"You,you're a very beautiful young woman. You're also very very smart and nice and, and, um, great. You're great. But I don't feel..."

He pushes down the high-heeled foot sliding up his thigh.

"I don't, I don't um. I don't feel any sexual attraction to you. Not, not because you aren't beautiful or anything! Because you are... I just I don't feel sexual attraction to anyone. Ever. That's just, uh, how I roll. Yeah..."

 

She doesn't look like she got any of that. Her eyes are glazed over and she won't stop touching him, even as he grabs her hands and forcibly puts them on the couch. Or the coffee table. Or anywhere not near his genitals. When she grabs for his belt again and he holds her arm back, he notices a strange glowing green mark on the inside of her elbow. Fuck. Okay. The thing to do now is not panic. Panicking would be bad. Think.

"Lydia? How did you get this?"

She doesn't answer.

"Look, I. Here,"

He digs through the couch cushions and finds an old pair of sweats and a shirt he won at the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department Annual Pie Eating Contest. He holds the bundle of wrinkled fabric out to Lydia at arms length.

"Please. Please put these on, okay? I'm gonna look the other direction and make a phone call, and when I turn back around, I expect you to be wearing clothes. Okay?"

Lydia looks up at his through hooded eyes and nods.

"Great. I'm just gonna," he points to the phone in his hand. "Yeah."

He turns around to stare out his window and tries to think how interesting the birds outside are. Yeah. This is his life.  
He scrolls through his contact list and tries to think of someone who is an expert on Lydia Martin and weird green, glowing magic shit. Oh. Of course. Stiles Stilinski.

He brings the phone to his ear and it rings a couple of times before he gets an answer.

"…yeah?"

And that doesn't sound like Stiles at all. The person on the phone has a gruff, annoyed tone.

"Hale?"

"Yes?"

He's breathing heavily, like he'd just been.... oh. Oh.

"Derek, it's Parrish. Could you put Stiles on the phone?"

"Stiles? Uh, why, why would Stiles be here?"

The pitch of his voice is incriminatingly high.

"I called Stiles' phone, Derek. Now could you please put The Sheriff's Underage Son on the phone please?"

He was using his Deputy Voice. Maybe it's unfair, but this is a serious situation.

"H'lo?" Stiles is also out of breath. Fucking. Typical.

"Stiles, it's Parrish and I've got a Lydia Martin Sex Spell Situation here and I need your help."

"That's great man, but me and my werewolf were kinda in the middle of something that I'd really like to get back to, so..."

"Stiles did you not hear me? This is serious! Wait... Stiles, do you have a glowing green mark on the inside of your left arm?"

"Oh, yeah hey, look at that."

"Does Derek?"

"Um, lemme see.... yep, Derek too."

"Shit.”

Okay, now is maybe panic time. “Okay. You’re at Derek’s apartment, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you and ‘your werewolf’ had better put some clothes on. I’m calling a Pack meeting.”

“What?!” Stiles whines. “Why?”

“Because I think someone put a curse on the whole Pack.” 

“Ugh. Fine.” 

Parrish hangs up before Stiles can change his mind. Then he sends out a group text and hopes that everyone is enough in their right mind to drive to Derek’s place. Maybe he should pick some of them up… Horny teenagers make for shitty drivers. 

He turns back around and is pleasantly surprised to see Lydia actually fully dressed. Progress. He tells her to stay exactly where she is and he runs to his bedroom to change into clothes that aren’t his hasn’t-been-washed-in-two-weeks-but-no-one-needs-to-know-that uniform. He also grabs his gun, a little bottle of mountain ash, and an airhorn. Just in case. As he’s tucking the gun into his holster, he notices the glowing green mark on his arm. That…. doesn’t make any sense. He is not currently insane with lust. He’s not humping anyone’s leg. Maybe it’s ineffective on him because of the whole “asexuallity” thing? Maybe the impervious thing isn't just for fire? Who knows. Maybe it just takes time to activate. Whatever. He just needs to hurry before he goes crazy. 

He grabs his keys and leads Lydia to the passenger seat of his car. As he’s driving to the McCall house, Lydia keeps sliding her hand up his thigh and he has to remind her several times of how dangerous it is to distract the driver. 

He pulls up in Scott’s driveway and shoots him a text. Scott and Kira come out of the house and immediately start making out, leaning on Jordan’s car, which: no. He forcibly separates them and guides each of them into the back seat, buckling them in like toddlers. Next stop, the Dunbar household. 

When he gets to Liam’s house, Liam, Malia, Mason and a stranger are waiting for him in the driveway. They are all of course, 'distracted', but at least they’re there. Malia is practically in Liam’s lap and Mason’s stranger is pinning him to a wall. Parrish honks the car horn and Liam and Malia jump up and run to his car and Mason and his presumed boyfriend walk hand-in-hand over to the car. Nope. No strangers at the Pack meeting. That's gotta be a rule, right?

“Wait, no, who the hell are you?” Jordan asks Short, White, and Douchey.

“I’m Kyle.”

“Nice to meet you, 'Kyle'. Get out of my car.”

‘Kyle’ shrugs and gets out and Mason whines at the loss of contact. Then he crosses his arms and pouts the rest of the drive to Derek’s apartment. 

When they finally get to Derek’s building, the elevator ride to his floor is the longest in the history of ever. Jordan feels like he was dropped in an Alternate Porn Reality in which everybody is fucking all the time. He’s not having fun. 

When the doors open, he runs out as the teennagers find any flat surface to make out on. In the living room, Stiles is straddling Derek but thankfully, they have clothes on. Though as Jordan stands there, he realises that he hadn’t really thought it through passed this point and now it looks like he may have accidentally started an orgy. 

He pulls out the airhorn and thanks god for at least this little piece of foresight. He winces on behalf of everyone in the room with superhuman hearing. They all look dazed and a little bit pained.

“So here’s what’s up.” Parrish announces to the room as a whole. “We’ve got an issue. Everyone here has a green glowing mark thingy on the inside of their left arm. It’s making you all sex-crazed idiots. I seem to be the only person unaffected by this, which somehow makes it my responsibility to fix it. The thing is: I don’t know what the fuck to do. Suggestions?”

Everyone blinks at him. 

“Awesome.”

This so not what he’d wanted to do with his day off. He puts his face in his hands. When he looks up, Stiles is raising his hand.

“Yes! Stiles, what is it?”

“It appears to be some sort of rune. Probably magical. Probably a witch.”

Lydia cocks her head to the side as she inspects her glowing green probably-witch-made rune.

“It’s Old West Norse. It says ‘Freyr’ who was the god of phallic fertility. He was said to ‘bestow peace and pleasure on mortals.’” 

It was apparently Jordan’s turn to blink. Even lecherous Lydia was a genius Lydia. 

“So,” Parrish starts “I’m looking for Penis Thor?”

“You could try a summoning spell.” say Stiles, who was currently receiving the biggest werewolf hickey in the world from Derek Hale. “I think Deaton has a copy of a book of summoning spells for various minor deities.” He continues, grabbing a fistful of Derek’s hair. 

“Yeah, okay.” Parrish nods, because clearly, he should leave soon. The clear-mindedness of the airhorn-shocked pack is rapidly deteriorating and everyone is starting to find each other really sexy again and it’s starting to get hot and heavy and he doesn’t need to be around for this. He open the bottle of mountain ash and makes a circle around the apartment. Not that anyone notices. On his way out, he puts a chair in front of the door and locks it. Hopefully, everyone will still be there when he gets back.

-

If Jordan had been anyone else, he would have given himself a speeding ticket. But, since he’s himself and he’s in an emergency situation, he lets it slide. He does feel a little guilty for abusing his Deputy powers, but this is for the good of the Pack. 

When he gets to the vet’s office, he rushes inside only to be glared at by a middle aged woman, her visibly upset cat, and the enigmatic doctor whose gloved hand is inside a the cat’s- yeah. If someone was doing that to Jordan, he’d be upset too. 

“Sorry. I- sorry. Books. Where-? Um....” He takes a deep breath and tries to make sense. 

“There’s a supernatural orgy happening and I need to summon Penis Thor.”

Dammit. 

“Deputy Parrish. If you would like to go sit in the waiting room, I can be with you in just a moment.” Doctor Deaton says calmly. 

Jordan nods to himself and thinks this is a pretty good idea. He’s already traumatised enough random civilians for the day. No need to involve innocent cats. 

When the woman finally leaves with one last scandalised look at Parrish, the Vet walks over to him. 

“Would you like a glass of water?”

“No, thank you, sir. Could you just help me with this?”

He rolls up his sleeve to show Deaton the glowing green Freyr mark of doom. Deaton inspects it. 

“Interesting. How are you not reacting to the rune? You should be controlled by lust at this point.”

“Trust me, I know. The entire McCall Pack has this mark and they’re all sex-zombies and it needs to stop. I was told you have a book about summoning minor gods.”

Deaton squints at him and then disappears into the bowels of the clinic. He reemerges with a dusty old book that he hands to Jordan. He takes it and flips through the pages, frowning. 

“This is in…. foreign.”

Deaton chuckles. Jordan is liking him less and less. 

“It’s Faroese.”

“Cool.” He says, even though it’s not. “Can you read it?”

“I can, yes.”

What the hell is up with this guy?

“Will you?”

“Yes. I will even help you will the summoning spell, if you like.” 

“That would be great, actually.” Thank the- well, not ‘gods’ because they’re the reason he’s in this mess.

Parrish follows Deaton the the back of the clinic. The spell required a bunch of sketchy stuff, all of which Deaton had. Which- is probably best just not to question. 

Jordan didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe something flashy. Some minor pyrotechnics, maybe a cloud of green smoke. Something. Instead there’s just no one there one minute, and then there’s a guy. A guy with long blond hair pulled back into a bun, tight black jeans, douchey sunglasses, and no shirt. He super cut, with tattoos that look suspiciously like the glowing green mark the Pack has been sporting. 

“Hey, Alan.” The guy nods at Deaton.

Deaton absent-mindedly nods back, then gestures toward Jordan, then starts restocking shelves with sketchy magic stuff. 

Jordan guesses it his turn. 

“Uh. Hi.” He tries. 

The minor deity, who’s holding fucking Starbucks, looks over at him. 

“Well hello there.”

“Yeah, hi. So, you’ve, I don’t know, marked my Pack? And now they’re all sex-crazed lunatics? I would like that to not be a thing. Please.”

“Jordan, right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“So, what’s your deal Jordan? What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know what you mean….”

“I marked you too, but you aren’t riding on anyone’s disco stick, you got me?”

“Oh. Right. I, um, don’t do sex. It just doesn’t do it for me.”

“Alright, I get you. Had a sister like that once…”

“Riiiight…” Parrish already tired of this conversation. “So. About my pack?”

“The wolves?” The god cocks his head to the side.

“And humans? And kitsune. And banshee…” Jordan adds.

“Right, right, them too.”

“Can you, like, unmark them?”

“Well, I was trying to give your Pack a gift, Jordan.”

Gift? “Sorry?”

“Y’know, ‘bestowing peace and pleasure’. It’s kinda my thing. It was supposed to bring you guys closer as a Pack.” 

“Okay, I mean, I get that, but. It just seems kind of like, full of consent issues? And not really helpful. I’d say we’re close enough.”

“Okay, I see where you’re coming from man. If it really bothers you, I’ll take off the rune.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Yeah. You seem like a pretty chill guy, Jordan Parrish. You’re Pack has a great destiny”

“Thanks? I think?”

“Anytime man.”

And then he was gone. Ooookay. 

-

When Jordan got back to Derek Hale’s apartment, he found his Pack in various states of undress, but they were cleaning but the, um, ‘messes’ and actually putting clothes back on. He was disproportionately proud of himself. He cleared his throat and everyone looked up at him and blushed. Stiles walked over to him, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, so we decided as a group to just never speak of this day again. To anyone.”

“Understandable.”

“I’m serious, dude. Fight Club rules on this.”

He holds up his hands in surrender “I’ve got it.”

“Also, about me and Derek…”

“I’m not gonna tell your dad, Stiles.”

“Ohthankgod.” he breathes.

“Hey Jordan,” Kira called. “We’re gonna watch Return of the Wolfman, you wanna join” 

“Sure!” 

He goes over to sit on the couch. Lydia sits next to him. She hands him a bowl of popcorn and kisses him on the cheek. He feels himself blush.

“Thank you. For saving us.” she says. 

“Anytime,” he says. 

Liam shushes them as the movie starts. 

“Yeah” he thinks. “I’d say close enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You're awesome. 
> 
> I have a tumblr!
> 
> http://here-comes-buck-to-fuck-shit-up.tumblr.com/


End file.
